


It Will Come Back

by StellinaGatsby



Series: Like Real People Do [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellinaGatsby/pseuds/StellinaGatsby
Summary: Sarah and Gob have an argumentIf you're reading the series but don't want to read angst and physical violence and medical trauma, you can skip this installment without losing the thread of the overall storyETA: The abuse comes from Moriarty, not Sarah or Gob.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for violence and abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gob and Sarah have an argument  
> Gob decides he can't continue with this relationship

> Don't let it in with no intention to keep it
> 
> Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it
> 
> Honey don't feed it, it will come back

Gob felt light-headed and anxious heading over the Sarah’s. He walked quickly, still not entirely comfortable with people seeing him going into or out of Sarah’s house at the ungodly hours he kept.

He had reread the letter from his mother at least a dozen times. He slipped it out of his pants pocket after Moriarty had headed up to bed and reread it over and over. 

He thought maybe he had misunderstood what she said, but he hadn’t; it was the same no matter how many times he read it. 

He wanted to forget it, pretend he didn’t know, but the knowledge itself was making him nauseous and he knew it wouldn’t get better until he talked to Sarah.

He wished he could have a difficult conversation with her at some time other than three in the morning, but he couldn’t risk leaving the bar early.

He keyed into the house. He felt like his heart was beating too hard but also not at all.

The downstairs was dark but the light in Sarah’s bedroom was still on, the light from under her door offering soft illumination to the stairs. He climbed the stairs, his feet and heart feeling heavier with every step.

Gob pushed open Sarah’s bedroom door. She was sitting up in bed with a book.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Hi, Sarah.”

Her face immediately drew into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“I…” He didn’t know how to bring it up. “Um… I read the letter from my mother today.”

Now she looked confused. “What’s up?”

“Are… are you… ?” He stopped. “You have a girlfriend.”

“Oh. Um… yeah, I do.”

He kind of thought she would deny it. The pang of jealousy that went through him was expected, but the disappointment that she was honest about it was a surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sarah shrugged. “I… don’t know. It never came up, I guess.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Does she know about you, in what way?”

He was getting irritated. He could feel it bleeding into his stance, his expression, his tone of voice. “Does Tulip know you let me spend the night? That we sleep wrapped around each other?”

“No. She doesn’t.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. He took a second to gain control over his voice again. “Sarah. I… I knew you weren’t interested in me like that, but… come on. I don’t want to be your dirty secret, okay?”

“You’re not, Gob.” Sarah’s voice was almost a whisper, her volume dropping as his rose.

“I’m not? Why didn’t you tell me about you and Tulip? I already knew you were a lesbian…”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

He stopped short, but then recovered himself. “Not the point.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mention Tulip to you because… the first time you spent the night, we weren’t dating yet. And I thought, if I told you, you’d stop coming over, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“But you didn’t tell her about me either.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve also slept in the same bed as Charon, and I didn’t tell her about that either.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Gob stood and stared at her. He didn’t have anything left to say. She wasn’t meeting his eye.

He didn’t know what this meant. He still felt nauseous, and the anxiety he felt earlier was slowly being eclipsed by a dark shroud of grief and loss. He didn’t feel like he had any right to grieve over losing whatever he had with Sarah and that made him feel guilty.

“Are you done coming over?”

He didn’t really want to be, but he couldn’t just stay after that. He couldn’t ignore what he knew now and keep acting like it was fine.

“Yeah, I think I am. At least for now.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He could hear the shake in her voice. She was going to start crying, if she wasn’t already. She was really good at crying quietly, which was alarming in its own way. He wanted to comfort her, to forgive her, hold her, but he forced himself to turn and go.

The reality of what had happened set in as he walked back to the bar. He had given up Sarah. He had given up human touch and kindness. He had given up his oasis. Shit. What had he done?

 

A few weeks passed and the sting of breaking up with Sarah had started to fade into an ache. Gob always felt guilty when he thought of what had happened as a break up. Sarah wasn’t his girlfriend - that had been abundantly clear - but it felt like a break up.

He felt unbearably guilty when he thought about how sweet it had been to be alone with Sarah, when he still longed for her soft touch on hard days.

Sarah hadn’t come into the bar for almost a week afterwards, but then she resumed the friendship they’d had before. She would come in sometimes to check on him and Nova, or bring him letters from Carol. She still reached out across the bar and held his hand; he tried to resist, thinking it would be harder if he strung himself along like that, but he couldn’t help himself. 

She gave him some paper and pencils and told him to write back to Carol, but he never found the time and he didn’t know what he’d tell her anyway. Not the truth; the truth would destroy her.

Something struck him lightly in the face. He looked around and saw a group of caravaners and guards snickering from a table near the door. He looked down at what had been thrown at him; it was just a pebble.

He rolled his eyes. He’d had worse things thrown at him.

“Hey zombie!” One of the caravaners called to him. “Get over here.”

He reluctantly walked out from behind the bar. They might just want another drink; they might jump him.

“What can I get for you?”

“You got a name, shuffler?”

“Uh… Yeah, it’s…”

“I don’t care. Get me another bottle of vodka. Pronto.” He shoved the empty liquor bottle into Gob’s stomach, the neck of bottle pushing painfully against his sternum.

“Coming right up.”

As he turned to go, something caught him by the ankle and he tripped. He put his hands out to try to catch himself, but he was still holding the empty bottle in his right hand. He felt his wrist snap as he landed.

The group of caravaners erupted in laughter.

Gob whimpered and struggled to get back up, but a boot in the small of his back pushed his back down, the bottle catching his cheekbone as he landed.

“Hey zombie! Where’s my vodka?”

Gob struggled to stand, but was shoved back down again. The caravaners laughed.

“Come on, shuffler. I’m waiting.”

“Gob!” Moriarty barked at him. “Get up, you lazy fuck! Is that how you treat paying customers?”

Moriarty grabbed the empty vodka bottle and swung it at him, hitting him in the shoulder.

“Colin! Please!” Gob held his arm up to block another swing of the bottle.

“What did you say to me?” Moriarty struck Gob with the bottle again. “ _ What _ did you say to me? Did I give you permission to speak, you disgusting corpse?”

A boot connected with his ribs. His hand went to his side to protect his ribcage and the bottle struck his temple. He blocked another kick towards his ribs with his arm, which erupted with pain, forcing a cry from him.

The caravaners were still roaring with laughter. A few other patrons snickered. Does the zombie feel pain like it thinks it’s still human? How drole.

“Shut your filthy mouth!”

All he wanted was to get to Sarah. If he could survive this, he could crawl back to her and to the touches so gentle it made him ache. Sarah would have to touch him to tend to his injuries; Tulip couldn’t blame him for that.

Gob covered his head and prayed Moriarty would tire himself out soon. He didn’t know if he still believed in God, but he prayed on days like this. He prayed he might pass out and be spared from the pain. He prayed Sarah was home, that he’d even be able to make it to her house when this was over. He prayed for things dark and gruesome and felt no guilt at wishing for them. He prayed for deliverance, but wasn’t surprised when his prayers went unanswered.

Just a little longer. He could go back to Sarah. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gob arrives at Sarah's in the middle of the night  
> Sarah tends to his injuries

 

> I know who I am when I'm alone
> 
> Something else when I see you
> 
> You don't understand, you should never know
> 
> How easy you are to need

Sarah was startled awake by a sharp knock on her door frame.

“Miss Sarah!” came Wadsworth’s permanently cheerful voice. “Mister Gob is waiting for you downstairs.”

She felt a thrill go through her; Gob had finally come back. But she was also confused. He knew he didn’t need to wait downstairs, that he could just come upstairs and crawl into bed with her, even if he hadn’t been there in weeks.

“Tell him he can come up,” she said, already drifting off again.

“Ma’am, I don’t believe he’s capable of making it up the stairs.”

Her eyes snapped open. She threw off the covers and yanked open the door. She had to shove Wadsworth out of the way to get to the stairs.

She rushed down the stairs and flicked the lights on.

Gob was leaning back against the wall next to the front door, slowly sliding down the wall to the floor. He was bleeding from his lip and from where his nose used to be, cradling his right arm against his chest.

“Oh Gob, what’d that bastard do to you, huh?”

His eyes opened sluggishly, unfocused.

“Sarah?”

“Come on, baby, let’s get you upstairs.”

“Mmm.” He didn’t move, just let his eyes close again.

“I’m going to get Charon to help me carry you up to my office.”

“No,” he groaned.   


“No?”

“Don’t get Charon.”

“Okay. But you gotta get up, babe. All my medical equipment is upstairs. Come on. I’ll help you up the stairs.”

She got underneath his left arm and hoisted him upright. He whimpered.

“I know. I know this sucks. I’ll give you some pain meds when we get upstairs.”

“Mmm. Okay.”

They made their way up the stairs slowly. About halfway up, Charon’s bedroom door opened and he leaned out, squinting in the light.

“Sarah? What’s going on?”

“It’s okay,” she answered. “Go back to bed.”

Charon watched her uncertainly for a moment before going back into his room.

“Shit. I ordered him back to bed.” She wanted to tell Charon to disregard that order, but didn’t want to shout so close to Gob’s ear; she’d knock on Charon’s door once she got Gob into her office.

“Here you go.” She lowered Gob into the chair in her office. “Did you hit your head at all?”

“Yeah…” he whispered, not opening his eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart, can you answer some questions for me? Do you know what day of the week it is?”

“It’s…” He paused for long enough that Sarah thought he had forgotten the question, but then he said, “Sunday?”

Technically it was, since it was after midnight.

“Let’s do some math. What’s 7 times 13?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.”

“I’m going to give you some acetaminophen, okay? Narcotics and concussions don’t mix. I can give you something stronger once I’ve stimpaked you.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Sarah got some pills out of her supply cabinet and offered them to him. He seemed to be drifting off. Or he was losing consciousness.

“Gob,” she said. He wavered a little and then stared at the pills in her hand.

Sarah wondered, not for the first time, whether or not she could get away with killing Moriarty.

“Open your mouth.” He did. She put the pills on his tongue. “Here.” She held a glass of water to his lips. He took a sip, swallowed, and then sputtered, coughing.

“Ah!” He put a hand to his ribs.

Sarah rubbed her hand across his shoulders until he was done coughing.

“Can I take your shirt off and take a look at your ribs?”

“Yeah…”

Sarah pulled his tee shirt from the back up over his head and then off his left arm before gingerly getting it over his right arm, which he was still trying to cradle against his chest.

“Hold your arms up for me?”

He looked at her like he hadn’t understood her. She put her hands under his biceps and gently pushed them up away from his chest.

“Hold them there.”

The left side of his chest seemed fine, but there were some dark, angry-looking bruises on the right.

“Can you take a deep breath?”

He whined as he inhaled.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’m going to take some x-rays. Lean forward for me.”

He did, yelping as his broken ribs shifted.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” She slid an image plate behind him and plugged it into her terminal.

She took the x-ray. She pulled the image plate out and laid it on a table to his right. 

“Here. Rest your arm here.” She took another x-ray.

She examined the x-rays on her terminal screen. His ribs looked okay. Definitely broken, but not in a way that was threatening to puncture a lung or lacerate any of his other organs. A stimpak could heal those without a problem.

His arm was a different story. His forearm was fractured in multiple places in different ways. Closest to his wrist, both the radius and ulna had a spiral fracture in about the same spot. Further towards his elbow, his ulna had several transverse and greenstick fractures; fortunately, none of those seemed to be displaced.

“Gob, honey, you still awake?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he answered.

“I’ve got to set your arm. I’m going to give you a peripheral nerve block for the pain, okay?”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay.”

This looked like the last of her bupivacaine. Put that on the list of things she needed to find a replacement for; access to quality medical supplies was the only thing she missed about the Vault. That and hot running water.

“I’m going to give you infraclavicular and axillary nerve blocks. One injection near your collarbone and one under your armpit. That’ll numb the pain. Hold your arm up again.”

Finding the infraclavicular injection site was easy enough, the structures palpable through his skin, and when she lifted his arm to find the axillary artery, she found it was partially visible. She swabbed the injection sites with iodine and then injected each site with some bupivacaine to numb the skin.

Gob had slumped over and was leaning against the wall to his left with his eyes closed.

“Gob?”

“Mmm.”

“Don’t pass out on me, babe.”

“Hmm.”

“Tell me how many times I tap.”

She tapped twice on his bicep.

“Twice.”

She tapped twice on each of the injection sites. He didn’t respond.

“You still with me?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She injected the deeper shots of bupivacaine.

Gob winced at the injection under his arm.

“Sorry. It’ll feel better in a minute.”

She gently touched his face, fingers tracing along his brow bone over his cheek. He leaned into the touch, moaning quietly.

“Sarah…”

“How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better.”

“Can you try to make a fist with your right hand?”

His fingers twitched, but he couldn’t make a fist.

“You might want to look away,” she said, even though he already had his eyes closed.

Sarah snapped his forearm back into place. It made a sickening crunch as she did.

She took a new x-ray. Satisfied with her work, she injected a stimpak into Gob’s right arm, then one into his neck for the concussion, then one behind his clavicle for the broken ribs.

“Alright, sweetheart. Give the stims about ten minutes to work. Then I can give you some of the good drugs.”

“Okay.”

Gob had closed his eyes and leaned over against the wall again. Sarah sank down to the floor and sat cross-legged, leaning back against the wall opposite him. She closed her eyes, too.

“Sarah.” Charon’s voice startled her. He was standing above her, wearing just his sleep pants and looking bleary-eyed in the light.

“Hey, sweetie. Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to give you an order and I meant to tell you you could ignore it but then I got distracted.”

“It’s fine.” He jerked his chin towards Gob. “How is he?”

“He’ll be okay. Just… in a lot of pain right now. I’m waiting for the stimpak to fix his concussion before I give him something narcotic. Then he can sleep the sleep of the just. God knows he deserves it.”

“I’m still awake and I can hear you,” Gob mumbled.

“Sorry, sweetheart. How’s your head feeling?”

“Better.”

“You think you can do some math now? What’s 12 times 15?”

“Uh… 180?”

“Give that man a prize.”

Sarah got up off the floor and got some more meds from her supply cabinet.

“And your prize is hydrocodone.”

He took the pill from her on his own, which was a relief, and didn’t choke on his water this time, but he still seemed kind of out of it.

“I’m going to splint your arm and then we can get you to bed, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She gingerly slid his still mending arm into a wrist brace and strapped it in place.

“That should do the trick while the stimpaks work. Come on. You can sleep it off. You’ve earned it.”

“Have I?”

“Yup. By being such a good patient. Come on. Up you get.”

Gob struggled back to his feet and then let Sarah lead him into her room. He collapsed onto the bed, groaning as his head hit the pillows.

Sarah got his shoes off and set them by the bed.

Gob was sprawled out on the bed. He had never done that before. He usually took up just the very edge of the bed, like he was afraid of displacing her or of getting too much in her way.

He also already seemed to be asleep. Although that way probably the effect of the narcotics.

Sarah kissed his forehead.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

“I probably shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re fine. You’re right where you should be.”

“Oh. Good.”

“I’m going to go talk to Charon for a sec. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Sarah stepped back out of her room. Charon was leaning against the wall next to his door with his arms crossed, always falling back on his scary bouncer stance in times of crisis.

“Hey.”

“What are we going to do about him?” Charon asked. There was no question about whether they were going to do something.

“I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t deserve that.”

“No shit.”

“So… what are we going to do?”

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You could buy him like you did me.”

“I’m not sure I can. And even if I could… I don’t know if that’s the best way to go. Moriarty would just end up with a new slave.”

“We’re going to have to kill him.”

“We can’t get away with killing him. You think I haven’t thought about it? Every time I’m in there, every bruise or bloody lip or nasty remark, I want to end that man. But there are laws here.”

“Laws that protect Moriarty but not Gob.”

“I know. Their laws suck. I’ll think of something. I’ll buy us some time.”

“Hmm.”

“Charon. You know I hate giving you orders.”

He nodded.

“I don’t know how to say this so it’s not an order. Please, Charon, do not kill Moriarty. If we get exiled from Megaton, there’ll be nothing left for us to do to help Gob or Nova or anyone who comes after them.”

Charon’s eyes fell to the ground. “I understand,” he said.

“Thank you.” She laid her hand on his shoulder and, for once, he didn’t recoil from her touch.

The adrenaline was draining from her, leaving her vaguely nauseous and dead tired. “I’m going to bed now,” she said. “Good night, Charon.” 

She turned to go back into her room.

“Good night, Sarah.”

She went back into her room. Gob had rolled onto his stomach, still sprawled out, his face pressed into the pillows. She noticed his jeans were lying on the floor next to the bed. That was an alarming development.

“Hey, sweetheart. You still awake?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Are you naked under there?”

“No.” He lifted the blanket to reveal he was still wearing his boxer briefs. “You think I’d get naked in your bed? Without permission?”

“You  _ are _ pretty heavily drugged right now.”

“Hmm.”

Sarah climbed into bed with him, lying down to his left. Usually she slept on the other side of the bed, but she didn’t want to risk bumping his injured arm.

Gob rolled to his side so his back was to Sarah. She snuggled against his back, draping her arm over his waist and pressing her forehead in between his shoulder blades.

“Tell Tulip I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Sarah pulled away a little in surprise. “For what?”

“Spooning with her girlfriend.”

“Oh. That. Don’t worry about that. She broke up with me about two weeks ago.”

“Oh. Never mind then.” He yawned.

Sarah wanted to keep him here, permanently in her bed, in her arms. She didn’t know what she was going to do tomorrow, but she sure as hell wasn’t letting Gob leave her house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah tries to buy some time while she figures out how to help Gob and Nova get permanently free of Moriarty
> 
> Who's ready for some more angst?

> It can't be unlearned
> 
> I've known the warmth of your doorways
> 
> Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Sarah shifted away from Gob. They had changed positions at some point and she was snuggled into his chest instead of being the big spoon.

She gazed at him for a moment before getting out of bed. His features smoothed out in his sleep, the pain and anxiety that normally covered his face chased off by narcotics and unconsciousness.

She had to get up. She had work to do. She got out of bed, trying not to disturb her sleeping friend. Quickly and quietly, she got dressed and crept down the stairs.

Charon was already up, sitting in the living room cleaning their guns and drinking a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” Sarah whispered, going to get her own cup of coffee.

“Morning.”

“I’m going to go talk to Simms. Gob is still asleep. If he wakes up before I get back…” She trailed off. How did she word this so it wasn’t an order?

“You don’t want me to let him leave.”

“Exactly.”

“What if Moriarty comes looking for him? You told me I can’t kill him.”

“Just… don’t let him in the house, I guess.”

“What if he brings Jericho?”

“Tell them to fuck off.”

“What if they start shooting?”

“Then go ahead and shoot them back.”

“Okay.” Charon went back to cleaning the pieces of his shotgun.

“You got my 10mm there?”

He nodded and picked it out of the guns laid out on the table in front of him and handed it to her.

“Thanks, babe.” She set her coffee aside and loaded the gun, putting it in her hip holster.

She drained her coffee cup, steeling herself for what she was about to do.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

Charon nodded. “Good luck,” he said.

She walked briskly through the early morning mist towards the sheriff’s house. Her vision was getting black around the edges and she was having trouble focusing. She went over what she was going to say in her head.

She knocked on Simms’ door. She was about to knock again when he opened it.

“Sarah?”

“Lucas. We have to talk.”

 

Sarah and Simms were waiting outside the front doors when Moriarty opened the bar.

“Well,” he said, “I should have guessed you’d be coming around. At least now I know where that lazy shuffler got off to.”

“Can it, Moriarty,” Sarah snapped.

“I’ve had just about enough out of you, lass. You send my bartender back within the hour or I’ll come take him myself.”

Sarah bristled.

“Moriarty,” Simms said before she could say anything. “Can we come in?”

Moriarty opened the door to allow them inside.

“Sheriff, we’ve been over this time and again…”

“Yes, Colin, we have. And you’ve crossed the line one too many times.”

“I’ve done nothing illegal.”

“Haven’t you?”

“You’ve assaulted Gob,” Sarah said. “Repeatedly. The injuries he sustained yesterday were enough to leave him permanently without use of his right arm if it had been left to heal on it’s own or if he’d been given a stimpak without proper care beforehand.”

“Well then, I’m much obliged that you fixed him up for me.”

“You know I didn’t do it for you.”

“Colin,” Simms said. “You’ve been insistent that Gob and Nova aren’t enslaved.”

“They’re not! Slavery is abhorrent.”

“But you treat them like they are. The third article of Megaton’s charter specifically states that slavery shall not exist within the confines of our walls.”

“Ah! You left out a small piece of that article, Sheriff. It specifically states that slavery shall not exist except as punishment for duly convicted criminals or for the repayment of debts exceeding five thousand caps.”

“I know the law, Colin.”

“And yet here we are, having this conversation yet again.”

“I want a copy of their debts,” Sarah said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want a copy of their debts. What Gob and Nova owe you. A good businessman such as yourself, you must have been keeping an account of everything they owe you. And a law abiding man such as yourself, surely you were keeping track so they would be free to go once their debts were repaid.”

Moriarty’s face fell as she spoke. It was just the tiniest of changes. He still smiled, but it no longer reached his eyes. He had realized he no longer had the upper hand or the law on his side.

“If you want me to issue a subpoena, I will,” Simms added.

“No trouble at all, Sheriff. I’ll just have to find those ledgers for you, you see.”

“I want them by the end of the day today,” Sarah said.

“Demanding, aren’t we?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, if we’re finished here, I’d like my bartender back.”

“We’re not finished here. And you won’t be getting him back today.”

“I beg your fucking pardon!?”

“A somewhat lesser known law on the books: the sale of alcohol is supposed to be prohibited on Sundays.”

“Sheriff?”

“She’s right, Colin. You may remember, your father always closed the bar on Sundays.”

“So you have two options,” Sarah said. “Either you give Gob Sundays off from now on. Or you close the bar on Sundays from now on, as well as paying the fines for all the Sundays you’ve been open since you took possession of the bar.”

“This is blackmail.”

“It’s not blackmail. Blackmail implies that I’m making demands as compensation for not revealing incriminating information. This is an entirely different type of coercion.”

“It’s not even that,” said Simms. “We’re allowing you to continue skirting the law if you’re willing to do something decent for one of your employees.”

Moriarty’s mouth twisted. “I could easily get that law repealed.”

“I don’t think you could,” Sarah said. “You see, I already have a number of people’s support to start enforcing the law again. Billy Creel, the Stahls, Nathan and Manya Vargas. I could get more.” She hadn’t talked to any of them, but she knew the Stahls at least would be on board if only to screw Moriarty. Manya would support it to help Gob. Manya would convince Nathan and Billy would probably support it if Sarah asked him to.

Simms side-eyed Sarah. He knew she was lying. She looked back at Moriarty. His face had contorted into a look of disgust, his nose wrinkled and his mouth turned into a deep frown.

“Fine,” he spat. “But I expect that zombie to be here bright and early tomorrow.”

“Absolutely,” Sarah said, smiling triumphantly.

“One more thing,” Simms said. Sarah turned to him in surprise; Moriarty had already agreed to everything they had talked about.

“Colin, I’ve stood by for too long on this. You cannot assault your employees. I don’t care what they do. You say it’s not slavery? You can’t act like he belongs to you. You can’t beat him like he’s a dog. You do, either of them go to Church or Sarah with injuries that need treating or come to me saying they’ve been harmed or I come in here and see they’ve been hurt… you drop five hundred caps from their debts. Every time. Understood?”

“Sheriff…”

“It’s not up for debate, Moriarty. It’s not negotiable. You assault your employees, you pay for it. I can’t arrest you and I can’t exile you and you know that. You’ve used it to your advantage for too long. And I’m telling you now. I’m done looking the other way when you blatantly defy the law because our economy depends on you. I’m done. You’re going to obey the law or you’re going to pay. Am I making myself clear?”

“As crystal, Sheriff.”

“Good.” Simms tipped his hat. “Have a blessed day.” He turned to go and Sarah followed, dumbfounded.

She trotted after him, catching up outside of Craterside Supply.

“Sheriff,” she said, “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I… Thank you.”

“Sarah.” He turned to face her and put his hands on her shoulders. It was something Jonas used to do when she was little and it caught her off guard. “It’s supposed to be my job to protect the people here. And I knew. I knew Moriarty had them enslaved. I knew he beat them. And I didn’t do anything. I didn't do anything until a teenager came to tell me what I was doing was unconscionable.”

“I think I said what was happening was unconscionable.”

“It was happening because I let it happen. You shouldn’t be thanking me, Sarah. I should be apologizing to you. And to Gob and Nova.”

“Either way, Sheriff. Thank you.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “Go home. Go tell Gob the good news.”

“Yessir.”

 

Gob felt warm and woozy. He struggled to remember what had happened. Slowly, the memories of his beating, of his agonizing trek across Megaton, of Sarah tending to him and soothing him all came back to him.

Oh yeah. He was woozy because she had given him painkillers. A lot of painkillers.

Sarah’s makeshift curtains muted the morning light so that it dimly lit the room, but wasn’t blinding in his eyes.

Gob’s eyes drifted closed, then they snapped open again. Shit! It was already light out. He should have been back at the bar hours ago.

He scrambled out of bed. He was only wearing his socks and boxer briefs and the wrist brace Sarah had put on him. He searched around the room but his clothes were nowhere to be found. His shoes were next to the bed, and his belt, but his shirt and pants weren’t.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

He hesitated. He didn’t want to go out into the main part of the house in his underpants, but he needed to find his clothes and get out of here.

He opened the door and started down the stairs.

“Morning.”

He looked up. Charon was sitting in the living room, cleaning guns and drinking coffee.

Gob was absolutely mortified. It was bad enough realizing after the fact that Sarah had seen him in nothing but his boxer briefs, that he had snuggled with her mostly naked, but for Charon to watch him take the walk of shame in his underwear was beyond humiliating.

“Your clothes are drying by the stove.”

Gob jerked his head towards the kitchen. His shirt and pants and some other clothes were hanging on a rack next to the open oven. He made a dash for them.

“They’re still wet,” Charon said.

“Yeah, well… I’m late.”

Charon watched him placidly as he frantically tore off the wrist brace and tried to get his damp jeans on.

“I’m supposed to keep you from leaving.”

“What!?”

“Sarah wants you to stay here.”

“I-I-I… I can’t. Not unless I want a repeat of yesterday’s beating.”

“I’m allowed to shoot Moriarty if he tries to take you.”

“What!? Charon… No.”

“Sarah said I could shoot Moriarty, but only if he opened fire first.”

“Jesus, Charon. It’s not going to come to that. I just have to get back.”

Charon was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the front door opening. Charon hopped to his feet, pistol in hand.

Sarah jumped as she came through the door. “Jesus, Charon! It’s just me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting back in his chair, placing the gun back on the table.

“Gob!” Sarah said. “I thought you’d still be asleep.”

“I-I-I… Shit. I have to get back to the bar.” He pulled his wet shirt over his head. His jeans were stuck at his thighs, the wet denim refusing to move further.

“No. You don’t. You get Sundays off now. Simms and I talked to Moriarty.”

He looked up at her, stopping abruptly. “What?”

“He got an ultimatum.”

“What!?”

“Take your wet clothes back off before you freeze to death. I’ll explain everything. Charon, is it okay for Gob to borrow some of your clothes until his are dry?”

Charon nodded. “Sure.”

The panic from earlier was morphing into numb disbelief. Gob felt like he was going to faint or puke.

“You okay, sweetie?” Sarah put her hand to his cheek, then to his forehead. “You still feeling the hydrocodone?”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I’m… I’m just…”

“Shell shocked?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Charon brought him a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. Gob peeled his jeans back off and hung them to dry, followed by his shirt, and got into the dry oversized clothes Charon had lent him.

“Sit down,” Sarah told him, guiding him to the couch. “I’ll make you some tea. Or some food. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“I’ll make you some tea.”

When Sarah placed the hot mug in his hands, he felt a little better, but he was still confused and queasy. He took a sip of the tea, scalding his tongue and throat, but the heat traveling down his chest was soothing.

“What happened?” Gob asked shakily.

Sarah recounted what had happened between her and Simms and Moriarty, almost in real time it seemed, ending with Simms’ facetious blessing.

Gob sat staring, disbelieving. He looked down at the mug in his hands. His tea had gone cold. He hadn’t drunk any of it while Sarah was talking.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked.

“Gob… Last night…” She trailed off.

“I wanted to kill him,” Charon said.

Gob’s head snapped up. “You… you wanted to kill him? Because of me?”

Charon nodded.

“Honestly, I’ve considered it as well, but I didn’t think we could get away with it.”

Gob took a sip of his cold tea. He wasn’t sure what to do with any of this information: he got Sundays off now; he could go to Simms for help if he needed it; both Sarah and Charon were willing to commit murder for him.

“Gob. Moriarty is supposed to give Simms an account of what you owe him by the end of the day today. I want you to keep your own ledger. Don’t let him charge you rent for nights you sleep here. And if he says you owe more than your ledger says you do, I want you to tell me or Simms about it and we’ll make him account for it. Okay?’

Gob nodded.

Sarah scooted closer to him on the couch and let her hand rest on his knee.

“How you feeling, babe?”

“I’m okay.”

“Your head feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“How about your arm?”

He flexed the fingers on his right hand, turning his wrist back and forth.

“Your ribs?”

“They’re fine.”

“How’s your mental state right now?”

He jerked around to look at her. “What?”

“What’s rattling around in your brain pan? I just dumped a lot of life altering information on you. You okay with everything I told you?”

“I… I don’t know, Sarah.”

“It’s a lot. I know. I just… I want you to know, darling. I’m doing what I can. I’m going to get you away from him eventually.”

He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but not the happy tears he would have expected. “You are?”

“Yes. I promise, Gob. I’m going to get both you and Nova free of him someday.”

He nodded. He dreamed of being free of Moriarty, of someday knowing he’d never have to suffer another beating; Sarah’s promise should have made him giddy at the prospect, Simms’ offer of protection should have been a relief, but all he felt was numb. This wasn’t going to change anything.

“Gob?”

“I’m tired,” he whispered.

“Do you want to go back to bed?”

He nodded. 

“Okay. Do you want me to wake up when I make lunch?

He nodded again.

She kissed his temple. “Get some sleep.”

He trudged back up to Sarah’s bedroom and collapsed back into bed. He could hear Sarah and Charon talking quietly downstairs; he could hear the radio playing quietly.

He laid on his side and curled into himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And I'm somebody's wife now! That's weird, isn't it?
> 
> I am fully aware that this is not a satisfying resolution to the story. Don't worry. There will be more.
> 
> When I actually play the game, I usually just kill Moriarty in order to free Gob and Nova. For me, it's a video game with no consequences, but I don't think Sarah would kill him.  
> Also, she has the ability to do things outside of what the game developers decided I as a player am allowed to do.
> 
> Sarah made some seriously life altering decisions on Gob's behalf without his input. I was going to address this in the story, but I don't think Sarah would realize that she's overstepped a boundary and I don't think Gob would object to it.   
> I also don't think Gob knows why he's upset.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah has a minor crisis; Charon is more helpful than expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short chapter, but hopefully, if gives this installment a slightly more satisfactory resolution.  
> Enjoy!

> Oh please, give me mercy no more
> 
> That's a kindness you can't afford

Sarah watched Gob climb the stairs. He seemed even more defeated than he had the night before and she was starting to feel a lead weight in her chest, a deep well of shame opening up on her. 

She waited a few beats after Gob had shut the bedroom door. She turned the radio on quietly to try to muffle their voices, then she turned to Charon.

“Do you think I did the right thing?”

He looked at her blankly for a second before responding, “You’re asking _me_ whether or not you did the right thing?”

Sarah’s eyes flicked away from him and back again. She nodded. “Yeah.”

“You once said my moral compass was like a roulette wheel.”

She cringed. “Yeah… That… that wasn’t necessary. Or kind. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Charon shrugged, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“He seemed… unresponsive. When I told him. Didn’t he?”

“He had a rough night last night.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, thinking about what she had done. Gob hadn’t asked her to do any of it. He had never asked her for anything, really; he didn’t ask her to let him stay, or to fix the GNR antennae, or to act as his personal mail carrier. Even last night, he hadn’t asked for pain meds or for her to stop when she was obviously hurting him.

“Sarah,” Charon said.

She jumped, startled. She had gotten so tangled in her thoughts, she had forgotten he was there.

Charon stared at her.

Sarah fumbled with her words. “You told me,” she said slowly, “not everyone wants me to save them.”

He looked at the floor, scowling.

“He didn’t ask me to help him. Just like you didn’t ask me to help you.” She felt nauseous. “Shit! I never learn. I never fucking learn!”

Her pitch and volume were both going up the more upset she became. She didn’t want to yell. She didn’t want Gob to hear, but she was dangerously close to coming unhinged.

“He isn’t me,” Charon said. “It’s not the same.”

“It’s not?” Her tone was caustic and she hated taking that tone with him; he was trying to help. She took a deep breath and said calmer, more quietly, “I know you’re different. That your situations are different. But I did the same thing to both of you. I acted like I knew what was best for you without your input and I have been trying really hard not to do that shit anymore. Christ! What is wrong with me?”

“Sarah. I couldn’t ask you for help.”

“You said explicitly that you didn’t want it.”

He hesitated. “I didn’t want it at the time, but… it did turn out for the best.”

Sarah sighed. “No, Charon. That… don’t tell me that. Sorry. Disregard that. It’s not an order. Just… telling me stuff like that feeds the savior complex. Like, yeah I majorly changed this person’s life without their consent but it was for their own good, so it’s okay. That’s the slippery slope that got me where I am. That’s exactly what I need to stop doing.”

“I…” Charon stared down at the floor. “If I had known what life would be like here, I would have asked for help. If I could have.”

Sarah didn’t know if she believed him. Telling her what she wanted to hear seemed out of character for him, but so did his admission.

“It was easier to be angry,” he continued. “I didn’t know what kind of employer you would be. It’s easier to… bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.”

Sarah blinked at him.

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?”

He frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“You definitely did. That was from _Hamlet_.”

He shrugged. “I guess I did then.”

“I didn’t think you actually read the books I gave you.”

Charon huffed, not necessarily a laugh. “I didn’t used to.”

Sarah stared at him.

“When you first acquired my contract, I didn’t believe it would be any better than with Ahzrukhal. Maybe different, but not better. I couldn’t imagine anything else. Gob can’t imagine anything better than the shit show he’s been going through.”

Sarah nibbled her lip. “That… that actually makes sense. So, you’re saying, he just needs some time?”

Charon nodded.

“Okay. Okay. What do I do in the meantime?”

Charon shrugged. “What you always do, I guess.”

“‘What I always do’?”

“Be patient and be kind.”

Sarah felt her eyes watering. “Charon! That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is also the title of a Hozier song


End file.
